You didn’t smack me in the face,
Or break a bone or burn my skin.
But you left footprints of abuse,
All over me when I let you in.

Like a guest that burned my house down.

And the saddest fucking thing?
You’re not evil but you’re sick.
My goodness held me hostage,
I wish that I’d have called the police.

It was never my job to fix you,
But you threatened to take our lives.
I ‘made you’ do some awful things,
I’m almost alright, almost all the time.

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s